


Brekkie

by Psychopersonified



Series: Where was the wooing? [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Breakfast, Clueless Q, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Mildy annoyed Bond, Old Married Couple, Old married couple tropes, Organisational restructure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: A glimpse into their daily routine and changes to their work due to the pandemic.A little exposition about how I think MI6 and our favourite OTP might have had to adapt to the new world order.Somewhat mundane, but in a sweet way.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Where was the wooing? [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698100
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	Brekkie

They’re stood outside next to the planters leading to Site B on the grounds of the Naval College next to the Thames, finishing their morning coffee in the brisk morning air. Thirty feet away is the nondescript door to Site B, disguised as a sealed off maintenance door. 

Site B is a series of interconnected underground bunkers, briefly used before this as a temporary HQ during the Skyfall fiasco. Since then, it has been gradually refitted to house external labs and the ever-expanding collection of Shadow Network servers. 

Q’s Shadow Network is busier than ever, and they’ve had to expand quickly especially over the past several months. With global travel grinding to a halt and restrictions in movement in many countries, they’ve had to double down on digital espionage. They were not the only ones, friends and foes alike have turned to employing the same strategy. 

But amplifying the reach and power of the network, also meant those in charge of it were now under more scrutiny than ever. The top few Q-branch and IT branch heads with the highest clearance are under armed security at all times both as protection and as minder - which begs the question, were they assets or potential threats? 

And what did this mean for field agents and operatives? With infiltration work severely restricted, and no reliable extraction method, majority of them have been instructed to go inactive - either return to UK at the soonest or disappear into the fabric of local society if they could not leave. 

Those remaining in the UK have been temporarily reassigned. Some on joint projects with MI5 and GCHQ and others caught up in MI6’s restructuring. The notorious Agent 007 was too unpredictable to be sent outside and M preferred to have 007 where he could keep tabs on him. That and Bond would have been too difficult to prise away from their Quartermaster anyway. It has only been six months since $PECTRE and that fiasco remained unresolved. 

So the field agent extraordinaire was parked behind a desk and given a small team of engineers and IT boffins as underlings - his Digital Remote Intelligence Team (DRITeam). An unfortunate acronym sadly, one that he more enthusiastic members of the team tried to reclaim by calling themselves the Digital Remote Intelligence Management Team or “DRIMTeam” for “Dream Team”. 

Bond had seriously considered retirement that day. 

Unable to work from home due to the security & sensitivity of the information, he is now subjected on a daily basis and in-person to a barrage of ‘initiatives’ and ‘project management’ updates by his insufferably young IT crew who looked like they might be more at home working for Google or Apple. But Q had vetted them for him and vouched for their technical abilities, so he had no choice but to trust them. 

“The hardware installation is done and we’re mostly wired up. I expect the cleanup crew should be finished by today.” Morning brekkie these days is usually had in the courtyard of the historic Naval College where Bond drops Q off before heading to HQ. 

To their left, on the public pavement, workmen were spooling up cables and loading up equipment into a lorry. A short distance away, a seemingly lone tramp is huddled under a dirty blanket having his morning breakfast of coffee and pastries that Bond was so kind to drop at his feet earlier. 

“Hmm. You going to be here the whole day?” the agent asks once he’s satisfied that nothing is amiss from his surreptitious survey of their surroundings. Not that he needed to, as perimeter cameras concealed in the plants and trees have been watching the area 24/7. Force of habit one might say. 

“Should expect so,” Q says around a large mouthful of his second breakfast scone, voice slightly muffled by his chewing. ”We’re starting test and verification protocols today if everything goes right.” He swallows the macerated mouthful, “You want the rest of my scone? I’ve had enough.” Q takes a sip of his coffee. 

He’s so used to being under surveillance now that he doesn’t take notice of it anymore. It helps that his bodyguard is also his partner, a special dispensation due to their unique circumstances, which makes the restrictions more bearable. The other senior Q-Branch members were reaching breaking point at having a security detail shadow their every move. 

A scrawl on Q’s takeaway coffee cup catches Bond’s eye, “What’s that?” 

“Hmm?” Q looks at him quizzically and then breaks into a wide yawn. “What?” he says when he’s done. 

“That,” Bond touches the black script with the forefinger of the hand that is holding his own cup. Scribbled on the heat sleeve is a name and a series of numbers written with a marker. 

Q twists his hand around so he can see what Bond was alluding to. 

“Oh no! Did I grab the wrong order?” Q pops open the lid to observe the colour of the liquid inside, an illogical move as his tongue, a far more reliable judge of taste has already told him that it tasted like his usual morning latte.

A short exhale from Bond told him that he was not coming to the right supposition. 

Undeterred, Q asks for confirmation, “Is yours alright?” He should have checked when he popped into their usual Pret-A-Manger to grab their order while Bond waited in the car. 

“Don’t be daft, Q,” Bond disparages mildly as he takes a final swig of his coffee. He’s also mildly annoyed that Q hadn’t been wearing his ring lately. 

The quartermaster had taken to not wearing it during the day as the installation work was heavily hands-on and Q was worried it would damage the fine jewellery. Then there was the little incident early on when Q thought he’d lost it after taking it off to scrub the dirt and grime off his hands from all the wiring work. He’d given the ring to Bond for safekeeping after that, and would only wear it on his off days. Bond has half a mind to buy him a simple gold one as a substitute. 

“What?” Q asks, genuinely puzzled. He studies the scribble again - he can make out the name ‘Martin’ and a what looks like a mobile number under it. 

“Oh right… Should I return the sleeve? Someone might be needing the number,” he’s come to the abjectly wrong conclusion that a staffer needed to take down a number and grabbed the nearest writing surface to jot the note down, then someone else must have accidentally reused the sleeve.

Bond stares at him in bewilderment, “Christ. You really _are_ impossible in the mornings.”

The blank look on Q’s face told him Q still hasn’t clued in, so Bond takes it upon himself to elucidate the sluggish quartermaster on the courting rituals of the young and hip, “You’ve got an admirer, dummy.” 

“A what??” the indignance in his tone was more from being called a dummy this early in the morning. 

“ _Martin_ would like you to give him a call, at your earliest convenience.”

One. Two. Three. 

“OH!” Q’s wide-eyed realisation is followed by a frown as the tries to place which of his usual baristas was ‘Martin’. “Wonder if he’s cute?” he quips cheekily. 

“How late do you think you’ll be this evening?” Bond ignores the quip. 

“Playing it by ear. If the system behaves, shouldn’t be later than 6? Where will you be today?” Q checks his watch, “Mmph! I should head in.”

They walk the short distance to the stairs that led down to the disguised entrance. Q flips open the concealed keypad. Bond positions himself to obscure the view from anyone who might be looking, not that he needed to, because the sunken landing and overhanging wisteria already mostly hid them from view anyway. But he liked to make sure Q got in safely all the same. 

“I have Ops Strategy with the DRIMT in the morning and then meeting with M and Hart after lunch.” Bond sighs, with Q away from HQ, he can’t nip away and skive off in Q-Branch to escape from his team. Well, he could, but what would be the point? 

“Do you want me to bring dinner when I’m done?” 

“Hmm, yes please,” Q swipes his security token and punches in his code.

“What would you like?” The heavy door hisses and retracts. Q pushes the door open wider and disappears inside. 

Bond turns around, surprised he didn’t get an answer. A pale hand shoots out to grab his empty coffee cup. Q quickly scribbles something on the paper cup before handing it back. Then he lets the door slide shut. 

The reassuring click of the locks engaging releases Bond from his bodyguard duties, handing it over to other trained agents inside the facility. Bond makes his way back to the courtyard of the Naval College, whilst finishing the remainder of Q’s half-eaten scone. Before he bins the cup, he checks the quartermaster’s scribble:

 _Surprise me_. 

He chucks the cup into the bin with a smile. 


End file.
